Reflections of a Stern and Selfless Ranger
by AQ40
Summary: Sylvanas knew she had a past like no other. She fought, won and lost battles. She'd scar whoever's land if they tried to take over her people or her belongings, moreover herself. Then she'd scar them and their land. Yet one night, in front of a peculiar mirror, made her want to deny herself and the power she thought she had.


Undercity, the new Lordaeron, became the home of the Banshee Queen, Sylvanas Windrunner. The Dark Lady would always be on her throne in the Apothecary Quarter and think. Sometimes she thought of ways to torture her captured victims in the dungeons kept in cages, sometimes she would think of how to face the loyally disciplinary qualities she had to offer to the Horde, but mostly she thought of her past as a Quel'dorei and her two beloved sisters.

Alleria and Vereesa.

The images of their laughter mixed with the autumn rain, those treks and hunts in the wild Ashenvale forest and the day they had to part for their separate positions in war, Sylvanas never forgot any of those well spent times. It just felt a little too short. Bearing the burden of being the leader of the Forsaken, Sylvanas didn't grant herself choices she could've well easily made. Even during her cruel experimentations of either reconstructing the dead or turning insects into deadly weapons, she thought of the days with her sisters.

But she had to keep a straight face in front of every emotion that threatened to break loose. Though she wouldn't be able to sleep at night, and instead she'd hear the howls of wolves from the neighbouring Silverpine Forest, Sylvanas would clench her jaws tightly or down her pale lips, so hard that blood seeped through the covers.

The queen wouldn't dare cry. She would feel sad at days where dreams of the past haunt her. But she kept her heart still, as still as a knife that appeared to be sharp, but rusted upon closer inspection. Every step, every moment felt like steps and moments that she had to walk alone on ice, and she'd turn her head around to question every now and then. Sorrow was no exception in her mind, as she was the leader of her people.

Sylvanas was given a mirror yesterday. It was called the mirror of truth, used for the petty liars and traitors that has planted themselves in the root of plans to a small conflict against the humans. It was around midnight, cladded in a black cloak, Sylvanas had other intentions with the mirror and so she went towards the dungeons.

Sylvanas stood in front of the mirror. From every angle, it just looked like a plain, typical mirror that served poor people in their daily hassles. Her actions were frigid as she moved to pull down the hood of her disguise. Slowly, she uncovered herself. Red eyes, pale blue skin, white hair, no longer the High Elf she was. Ugly, she thought herself to be, even though many desired her attention.

One step closer to the mirror, Sylvanas stared down at her own face. She looked way thinner, weaker, older, but even more so, tired. Sylvanas was very tired, from her responsibilities and her tortured life that seemed like a covered up lie to her. She pictured the reflection in the mirror to be Vereesa, tall, pretty, white, blue eyes, silky platinum blonde hair and pink lips. It couldn't match up in her mind, maybe because her reflection was too far to be complimented.

However, the reflection looked too far off to actually be the Sylvanas that stood there in the first place. Her hands lifted and touched her smooth skin. She probed it a little, to see herself in the mirror probing old, wrinkled skin. Did all those wars and deaths honestly make her as old as an old lady? Nonsense! In a sudden rage, Sylvanas swiped her sharp talons at the mirror. Pieces of light danced around her as the mirror broke. Every single piece showed no mercy to her reflection as each of them criticised her into an old woman.

Sylvanas ultimately left the darkness of the dungeon, back to her bedchamber, and decided that it was best to keep her focus on the battle that would take place in the week after or so. Somewhere in her felt guilty for destroying the mirror, the feeling was almost symmetrical to being selfish. But then again, when the last time Sylvanas acted on something on her own mind?

And so she thought that, even though it was just a mirror, she was happy to break her own reflection for her own sake.


End file.
